Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
THE GIRL IN MY DREAMS
The first thing I remembered when I woke up was her face.
Or at least, I thought I remembered it.
I lay still, staring at the ceiling while pale morning light slipped through the curtains.
She had been in my dream again.
The same girl. The same eyes. The same smile that somehow made my chest hurt every time I saw it.
But there was something strange about her.
I could never remember her face when I woke up. Not completely.
It was always there for a few seconds—perfectly clear, like I had known her my entire life.
Then it disappeared.
Every single time.
I reached for my phone.
7:12 a.m.
“Great.”
I had twenty-eight minutes to get ready for work.
By the time I reached the kitchen, my roommate Marcus was already sitting at the table, eating cereal straight from the box.
He looked at me.
“You look terrible.”
“Good morning to you too.”
“Did you sleep?”
“Yeah.”
“Then why do you look like you spent the night fighting demons?”
I ignored him and poured myself some coffee.
I wasn't going to tell him about the dream.
Not again.
He had heard about her before—the mysterious girl who appeared in my dreams.
Marcus had decided months ago that she was my “dream girlfriend.”
I had laughed at him then.
I didn't find it funny anymore.
Because the dreams had started changing.
At first, she only stood far away.
Then she started talking to me.
Last night, she'd finally walked toward me.
She looked directly into my eyes and whispered something.
Three words.
I couldn't remember the first two.
But I remembered the last one.
“...again, Ethan.”
I froze.
Why did she know my name?
I didn't know.
And that was beginning to scare me.
By 8:03, I was on my way to work.
The city was already awake.
Cars filled the roads, people hurried along the sidewalks, and somewhere nearby a street vendor argued with a customer.
It was an ordinary morning.
At least, it was supposed to be.
I stopped at a small café near my workplace.
I had barely stepped inside when I saw her.
She was sitting alone beside the window.
Long dark hair.
White blouse.
A small silver necklace around her neck.
She was staring outside.
I don't know why I stopped.
Maybe it was her.
Maybe it was the strange feeling that hit me the moment I saw her.
My heart skipped.
Not because she was beautiful.
Although she was.
It was something else.
Something deeper.
Something I couldn't explain.
She turned.
Our eyes met.
For a moment, the entire café seemed to disappear.
Her expression changed.
Her eyes widened.
And then she smiled.
Not the polite smile of a stranger.
A familiar smile.
A smile that belonged to someone who had been waiting.
I felt a strange pressure behind my eyes.
A flash.
Rain.
A red umbrella.
Her hand holding mine.
Then—
Nothing.
The memory was gone.
She stood up.
“Ethan?”
My stomach dropped.
I hadn't told her my name.
I looked around, wondering if someone else had called me.
But she was still looking directly at me.
“You know my name?”
She froze.
“I…”
She looked away.
Then she smiled again.
“I heard someone call you.”
“Who?”
She didn't answer.
I took a step closer.
“Have we met before?”
Her eyes returned to mine.
There was something in them.
Sadness.
Almost fear.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
I studied her face.
She was lying.
I didn't know how I knew.
But I knew.
She picked up her bag.
“I have to go.”
“Wait.”
She stopped.
“What's your name?”
She hesitated.
“Amelia.”
“Amelia what?”
She smiled faintly.
“Just Amelia.”
Then she walked out.
I watched her disappear through the glass door.
Something inside me screamed that I should follow her.
Instead, I stood there, confused.
Trying desperately to understand why a complete stranger felt like someone I had spent years trying to find.
Then I noticed something on the table.
A small photograph.
I picked it up.
My hands began to shake.
It was an old picture.
A boy and a girl standing beneath a red umbrella.
The girl was Amelia.
I recognized her immediately.
But the boy—
I stared at him.
My breath caught.
It was me.
On the back of the photograph, written in faded blue ink, were four words:
“You promised you'd remember.”
I looked at the photograph again, hoping my mind would recognize something.
Nothing.
Only an ache spread through my chest.
I turned it over once more.
There was a date on the message.
Three years ago.
The amount of time these dreams had followed me.
That couldn't be a coincidence.
I wondered if the girl in my dreams had never been a stranger.
Maybe she was a memory my mind had buried.
I turned toward the door.
Amelia was already gone.
And for the first time in three years, I felt a memory trying to come back.
